See what happens if you are lucky enough (unlucky enough) to be named Best in Show at The Westminster Kennel Club’s annual canine showcase?
No sooner is the final announcement made, than a phalanx of paparazzi pop their bulbs and electronic flashes at you — dozens per millisecond — from the sidelines of the Show. (As if, somehow, being first with a cute dog photo is going to claim a Pulitzer!)
In a trice, all the brisk bright blonde bimbette cable-channel interviewers arrive, microphones extended, trailed by hulking cameramen with floods. My job: cute, on command, for the duration of their inane questions. And bake. And sweat.
Next come the national network newbies, each assigned this fluffball family interest piece to close the next evening’s broadcast ‘on a lighter note’, and each blasting me with another couple thousand lumens or so. (Do dogs sunburn?)
Is it any wonder I’m temporarily snowblind?
Just so you know, I didn’t start out a glare-face pup.
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